


Bad Side

by squeezedoutofmiracles



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Cuddles, Fluff, M/M, Runaway, bed sharing bow chicka wow wow, homeless, i wrote this ags ago but i need to upload things more, no sex sorry, sfw, squeezedoutofmiracles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-06 11:13:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1855981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squeezedoutofmiracles/pseuds/squeezedoutofmiracles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two runaways found themselves in a pair, looking out for each other, keeping each other safe.<br/>But Gamzee always hid his body under baggy clothes and his face under thick paint, so when Tavros saw him dressing for the first time it was over six months into their relationship.</p><p>And Gamzee wasn't ready for this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Side

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this ages ago when i tried to do a prompt challenge (ah ha ha ahahah) and never uploaded it bc it was for a friend but people liked my last gamtav piece and this one is similar so just take it.
> 
> Runaway AU. Cuddles (naked).

Cuddles  
(Naked)  
GamTav - HomeFree AU

You know how he feels about his body.

Of course, he's never spelt it out for you, but it was obvious from the moment you first saw him that he wasn't the type to strip off with a grin or take communal showering lightly. The way he pulled the drawstrings on his hoodie tighter as you approached him, how he slept with his hands curled in front of his face and his knees curled up to his chest as if he was trying to shrink away. Not to mention he only undressed when you weren't around; you never saw him change for at least half a year. He appeared to flick from one set of clothes to the other, flicker like a picture in a horror movie where you turn around then turn back and something's different.

But you never confronted him about it.

You imagine the reasons; the most likely spills down the left side of his face and disappears under his collar; it smudges his left eyebrow into nothingness and dribbles around under the face-paint he daubs on to try and cover it up. He doesn't do a very good job.

So when you caught him changing in the back room of the draughty squat you're living in you stay very very quiet. His skin is as pale as you'd expect; pale enough that you wonder why he bothers with the face paint. Pale enough that the scars look nearly grey on his back, bruises a glowing purple. You had no idea he had so many bruises.

The mirror is turned away as he searches through the bag, pulling out long black trouser legs like some sort of magic trick without an audience. You could count his ribs from here, where the shadows ring his chest. And you were right, the scars do carry on past his neck, down over his shoulder. It looks like someone poured lava down his side, the skin dragged down with the flow of the burns to warp around and come to a stop somewhere by his waist. His spine ridges out like a wave, like you expect it to settle back down into his skin but of course it doesn't.

You think about turning back, about pretending you didn't catch him like this. You feel invasive, dirty, watching him work without knowing you were there. But it's like seeing a baby deer, you don't want to be the first to move or break the moment as he sways under the dirty yellow light.

In the end you don't have a choice; he picks up the new shirt and turns to grab the bottle of water on the chair by the door and is facing you before you have a chance to disappear. His eyes widen, he tenses, you swear you can hear his heart beating from here and with bones that defined and frail you catch yourself wondering what stops it from falling out onto the floor.

His first move is to turn away, to hug his arms around himself as he scrambles with the shirt and tries to move out of your view, and without thinking you follow him. You get up behind him, close enough that he can't move any further away without passing through a wall. You wrap your arms around him, pressing your stomach to his back and your cheek silently against his shoulder blade. He freezes, and now you really can hear his heart hammering.

"I... I'm sorry..." He whispers, hands frozen tangled up in the shirt. "I didn't think you'd be... Comin' back so motherfuckin' early, brother..." He swallows again, and you feel his ribs heave to work his lungs. You shake your head.

"You don't have anything to be sorry about, Gamzee." You murmur, and he shivers as your warm breath strokes against his skin. You're so close to him. "You haven't done anything wrong. I promise."

He shakes slightly at that, you look up to see him shaking his head as the floor as he hunches his shoulders in and tries to fold away. Tries to make his body even smaller than lack of food has already made it.

"I didn't... Mean for..." He whispers, and you cut him off with a soft nod that he can feel against his back. You know. You already know this wasn't meant to happen.

"Its alright, Gamzee. It's all alright." You murmur and turn to press a soft kiss between his shoulder blades, the first time your lips have ever touched skin which wasn't above his shoulders. He's warm and shaking under your touch.

He's tense. He feels like someone who's clinging to a cliff edge, almost ready to let go. If you don't haul him back to you then you're never going to get this moment back. Never again. So with a soft kiss to his shoulder, and then a stretched one to the back of his neck you reach to tangle your hand with his and turn him back to face you.

He doesn't meet your eyes; its as if he's pretending the moment isn't real. He isn't blinking, like before when you've caught him day dreaming. With a gentle hand resting on his unscarred cheek you turn him to face you, to meet your eyes. He looks terrified.

"Gamzee... This is OK. You're OK, I promise." You stroke his cheek, silently willing the wide-eyed panic away from him. He looks like he won't sleep for a week, he feels like he's going to run and you're never going to get him back. "I /promise/, Gamzee, you're OK... I'm here, I'm right here for you..." You swallow, wrapping your arms around him in a gentle hug. Eyes closed, you nestle against his chest and breathe slow as you wait to be pushed off. But he only waits a little before returning the hug, and you can feel his breath in your hair as his long long arms wrap around your shoulders and hold you close.

Its too long that you stand there, in the cool dustiness of the room until he starts to shiver, still reluctant to move. You don't want to break the moment.

"You're getting cold..." You whisper against his shivering chest, he just shrugs. It's true. But he's been colder. And if he moves then he's going to fall over some edge you can't haul him back over. "Come on..." You whisper, pulling at him softly. "Lets get into bed. Warm you up."  
Its still far too early for bed; light streams in through every bare crack of the house. It seems to come in through the floorboards too, it squeezes in through the newspaper that filters the room into sepia lighting and burns squares into the floorboards where the window panes were left unpapered. But he's cold, and the sleeping bag waiting on the camping mattress promises something more than just warmth.

He follows like a toddler, licking his lips and fixing his eyes on where your hands join up. He follows you through the door, he follows you into the shady corner of the room with the bed, he lets his hand fall to his side when you move your own hands to your shirt and pull it off slowly. The silence shouldn't spread this far, when you watch him watch you and look down to your trousers. They're soon tossed to join the pile and your socks are there too now, and you're left in your underwear. He stares.

He's never seen so much of you, never seen you so unshielded and bare, never seen so many inches of skin. Flawless bronze skin.

He has to take a deep breath before he starts to undo his belt with shaking hands, you want to move to stop him. He wasn't meant to feel like he had to bare up, he was meant to feel reassured, that he was OK with being seen like that. That it was normal, that he wasn't alone...

But when your hands go to stop him, when he shakes his head he steps back and shakes his in unison with yours.

"I want to, Tav." He whispers, shaking his head as he undoes his trousers and lets the heavy denim drop to his ankles.

Its all you can do not to stare as you nod and let him step out of them and leave them pooled on the bare rough floor, he puts his hands on your arms and he's still shaking when you sink down into the sleeping bag and he follows. Instantly his chest and legs are hidden again, but you can feel them pressed against yours. You can feel the belt buckle marks dug into his thighs, you can feel the thick scars on his chest, but all you can see is his face-paint and his shaking lips and wide eyes and he's so scared. He's so so scared, and you wrap your arms around him again to link behind his back and zip them in together as his toes curl with a click and he fights not to pull his knees up to his chest.

You put your hand on his neck, thumb stroking his jaw as you shush him and kiss his nose gently. The kisses trail to his cheek, the one he tries to hide under layers and layers of paint, and he gives a slight chuckle as he tries to work away from your curious lips gently.

"Stop, motherfucker, yknow that's my bad side." He chuckled, looking at you and squeaking when you press a kiss to the eyebrow which was almost completely burned away.

"You don't have a bad side, Gamz." You reply, a small smile pressing your lips against his skin as you stroke his neck gently, legs twining with his under the covers as you lie together, skin against skin, slowly learning that there's always going to be someone who thinks you're perfect. Even if every inch of his body was covered in scars, he was flawless. And you think, maybe after six months of loving each other, maybe he's starting to realise that.


End file.
